A Family Affair: Spring: Truth in Lies, Book 2 (11 page)

When the doorbell rang at 4:18 p.m., the pork was in the oven, and Christine had sliced cucumbers and red onion for the salad. Cherry tomatoes were next. She set the knife aside, wiped her hand on a dishtowel
, and made her way to the front door. Maybe it was the deliveryman with the charm bracelet she’d ordered for Lily: a gift in a string of gifts for her sister. Each one delighted Lily, no matter how small. Christine opened the door, expecting to see the deliveryman with a box, but the person on the front step was a beautiful woman in a melon-colored sundress with a tote slung over her right shoulder.

“May I help you?”

“Christine?”

The woman’s voice was low and sultry. “Yes?”

“I’m Natalie Servetti.” The brunette paused, flashed a wide smile. “I know Nate.”

“Oh.”
Oh. And then, because she’d been raised to respect politeness, no matter the situation, she asked what she would later regret, “Would you like to come in?”

The woman’s smile spread. “Thank you.” Christine stepped aside as Natalie
Servetti glided past her in a haze of perfume and self-assurance. She beelined to the fireplace mantel, her gaze latching onto the photos of Christine and Nate’s wedding: sharing a kiss, holding hands, standing next to Lily, Uncle Harry, and Miriam.

“Nate always did take a good picture.” The woman turned away, dismissing the rest of the photos that included more glimpses into the lives of Mr. and Mrs. Nathan
Desantro, and sat on the couch.

Why was she here? And how fast could Christine get her to leave? Today was a special day, one she and Nate would remember as the beginning of their family, and no woman from his past was going to ruin that. Still, etiquette crept through her determination to be rid of the woman.
     “Would you like something to drink?”

“As long as it’s not a shot of Jack, then sure.”
Of course she’d said that so Christine knew she was familiar with Nate’s habits. “Water’s fine.”

Christine made her way to the kitchen, poured two waters
, and tried to think of a way to get rid of the woman. She glanced at her watch. Nate would be home in a little over and hour and his ex-whatever was not going to be here. In fact, if Christine had to spray the entire house with disinfectant and light candles to rid herself of the woman’s scent, she’d do it.

“Here you go.” Christine handed her a glass of water and tried not to notice the glossiness of the woman’s hair, the long legs,
the large breasts. But mostly, she tried to ignore visions of Nate knowing these body parts, enjoying them with great familiarity. Past was past; none of it mattered but now.

Natalie sipped her water, set it down on the walnut end table Nate had made
, and crossed one leg over the other. “I like what you’ve done to the place.” Her comment was just another reminder of the past relationship she shared with Nate. “Quieted the testosterone buzz a little.”

“Thank you.”

She sighed, placed a hand on the tote that rested beside her. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m here.”

Spoken as someone who knew that was exactly what Christine was wondering.

“I’m curious.” She kept her voice even, her expression bland. The woman could lambaste her with all the innuendos she wanted and she would get no reaction. Years of living with Gloria had taught Christine how to mask her true emotions.

“I had to come.” She batted her dark lashes, locked her gaze on Christine and pulled her in. “There are a few things you should know.”

She paused, her voice dipping in sympathy as though to imply,
Since you haven’t figured them out yet, I’ll help.

“Nate and I go back a long way. He was friends with my brother, Gino, in high school. I was younger, but I always had an eye on him.” Her lips pulled into a slow smile. “He always had an eye on me, too. We got together and it was good, but explosive. You know how that can be when there’s so much passion, you can’t contain it.” She flung both hands in the air and laughed.
“Fireworks. In bed and out. It was exhausting.”

Christine sat very still as Natalie
Servetti’s words seeped through her pores, swirled to her brain, and settled in her soul. It was one thing to imagine the man you loved with another woman but quite another to receive a testimony from the other woman.

“I appreciate your need to enlighten me on your past relationship with my husband, but you’re forgetting one important fact.” She squared her shoulders, leveled her voice. “Nate chose me.”

“Chose. An interesting term.” Nate’s ex-lover eased back against the cushion, the very spot where Christine and Nate first made love, and shrugged. “He chose his first wife, too, or maybe circumstances did. We’d had a horrible fight, and she was in the right place. Patrice. Did he tell you about her? It didn’t last, though. We both knew it couldn’t, no matter how much he told himself it would. The second she left him, he came right back to me. Stayed, too.”

Her voice gentled. “And then you came with your fancy education and prim ways. Oh, I’ll bet that turned him around. He probably didn’t know quite what to make of you. I imagine it was a real thrill to bed the daughter of a man he hated so much, but it won’t be any different with you, Christine. You can call yourself Mrs.
Desantro all you want because Nate will come back to me. I understand him, understand what he needs, and I can give it to him. We belong together; we always will.”

“Get out.” Christine stood, sipped what bits of air were left in the room.
“Now.”

Natalie sighed and stood, grabbing her tote. “The truth is always hard to swallow when you’re so hell
-bent on denying it. But,” she opened her tote and pulled out a manila envelope, “I’ll just leave you with these in case you have any doubt or any questions.” She worked her lips into a tight smile. “But I think they’re pretty self-explanatory.” She handed the envelope to Christine who took it and tossed it on the chair. “Thanks for the water, Mrs. Desantro.” With that, she headed for the door and slipped out.

Christine waited until Natalie
Servetti’s car rumbled down the driveway before she snatched the envelope and sank into the chair. The contents of the envelope would be dangerous, no doubt intended to poison Christine and Nate’s relationship or, at the very least, damage it. The wise action would be to throw it in the fire pit outside and watch the flames destroy Natalie Servetti’s attempt to hurt them. She traced the edges of the envelope, caught between logic and emotion. Logic told her to get rid of the insidious poison fast, that one more minute in her hands could prove deadly. Emotion demanded she rip it open, right now, and deal with whatever smoldered inside.

Minutes passed as Christine battled between trust and doubt. Nate would not betray her. He loved her. He wanted a life with her. People like Natalie
Servetti thought nothing of destroying lives to get what they wanted.  The contents of this envelope were merely one jealous woman’s attempt to take something that didn’t belong to her. Nate would not betray their love. Whatever was inside might make her doubt him, and he’d done nothing to deserve that. She closed her eyes, rubbed her belly. They were going to have a baby and she’d planned to tell him tonight as soon as he walked in the door. They would talk about a nursery, names, and how to tell Miriam, Lily, and Uncle Harry. She opened her eyes, stared at the clasp on the envelope. If she peeked inside, the contents would leach into her brain. If she did not, the wondering could prove worse. Before she could torment herself with more doubt, she unfastened the clasp and slid the contents onto her lap.

Natalie had been correct
. There was no need for explanation, not when the colored glossies included half-naked shots of Nate sprawled on a couch, jeans undone, ex-lover on top of him. There were six photos, 5x7s, with a date stamp of last Tuesday in the bottom right corner. Had someone taken these? Had Nate been drugged, forced, coerced? If only it could be that simple, but that happened in books and the movies. Real life was more deceitful, more tragically sad. Christine studied each photo, memorized the scrap of dark skin exposed by the half-unbuttoned shirt—the shirt she’d bought him for Christmas. His eyes were closed in all of the photos—to pretend he was somewhere else, somebody else? The last photo honed in on his left hand and the absent wedding band. Nate had told her he didn’t wear his ring at work because the risk of getting a finger caught in a machine was too great. He’d said he carried it in his right jeans pocket to have it close. Apparently he took it off when he was working on other things, too, like Natalie Servetti.

Hope for a future with him burned that afternoon along with the forgotten pork roast. Christine slid the photos back into the manila envelope and refastened the clasp. The images were part of her memories now, as permanent and painful as the moment in
Thurmon Jacobs’s office when she’d discovered her father had a secret family. Another betrayal, as heartbreaking as the first. Was she doomed to care about people who disregarded her? Or was she simply unlovable? Maybe the people she cared about were too invested in their own wants to consider her at all. That possibility was the most painful.

She clutched the corner of the envelope when Nate’s truck rumbled up their drive a half hour later.
Time for the truth
.
She didn’t move when the truck door slammed and he bounded up the steps, whistling. Nor did she speak when he thrust open the door and burst in, calling, “Christine! Ready for your surprise? Whew! What burned? Christine?” He glanced toward the kitchen, spotted her in the chair, and rushed over. “What’s wrong?”

How did a person pretend such concern when it was all a grand show? Had he thought she’d never find out? And now he stood over her, dark eyes filled with worry, mouth pulled into a straight line, body tense. At this moment, she didn’t even hate him
; that would come later when the numbness wore off and she understood what he’d taken from her.

“Baby.”
He knelt and placed a big hand on her leg. She cringed. Baby was gone. “What happened?”

“I had a visitor today.” Spoken with such control, as though her heart had not been shattered by six photos.

“Oh?” He raised a brow, waited. When she didn’t continue, he stroked her left knee. “Who came? It better not have been your mother.”

She glanced at his hand on her knee, the glint of a wedding band shining back at her in betrayal and deceit. Their vows had been nothing more than words strung together, one after the other, to produce a pleasant sound that held no meaning.
At least not for Nate. Whatever happened once he saw the photos would be a lie. The truth spoke from the glossies, forcing her to acknowledge she didn’t know the man she married, not at all.

“No, not my mother.”
She handed him the envelope. “Natalie Servetti came to see me.”

“What?” His eyes narrowed on the envelope as though it might strangle him. “What did she want?”

He could pretend annoyance, even disgust, but he couldn’t pretend what was in those photos: unzipped jeans, half-open shirt, ex-lover crawling on top of him. She nodded at the envelope. “She wanted to give us a belated wedding present.”

Nate snatched the envelope and jerked open the clasp. He pulled out the photos, his face growing paler as he flipped through them. “What the hell is this?” He stuffed the photos back in the envelope and threw it across the room. “Christine, listen to me, I have no idea what those are.”

“Really? I have a pretty good idea what they are and I wasn’t even there.”

“This is crazy. It’s a set-up.” His dark eyes grew wild and bright. “I didn’t do anything with her.” He placed his hands on either side of the chair, leaned closer. “I swear to God, on our marriage, I never touched her.”

“Never?” Why did people think they could lie their way out of the truth just because the other person loved them? “That’s a strong word, and that is not what Natalie Servetti told me,” she paused, “in fairly intimate detail.”

“She’s a liar. She wants to break us up.” His voice dipped, turned desperate. “There’s been no one since you
; you’ve got to believe me.”

“But you were with her before, weren’t you?” She had no business asking but she wanted to hear him say it. Probably so she could torment herself with it.

A slow flush crept up his neck, landed on his cheeks. “We were together, but we weren’t together, if that makes any sense.”

“You mean you had sex with her but she wasn’t your girlfriend.”

The flush spread to his ears. “Yeah.”

“The nights away these past few weeks, the Saturdays, you were with her, weren’t you?”

“No!” He actually sounded mortified and disgusted. “I love you. I don’t want anybody else.” His voice dipped, softened. “Only you. You’ve got to know that.”

A tiny part of her wanted to believe his sincerity, but that was the problem when lies seeped into relationships. Nothing could be trusted anymore. Everything was suspect. “The photos are time-stamped with last Tuesday’s date.”

“I never touched her.” His gaze pulled her in. “I’ve been working in her brother’s shop these past few weeks, making your surprise.” He looked away, ran a hand through his dark hair. “I hated telling you I was at work, but I couldn’t risk ruining the surprise. Natalie showed up last week, started saying ridiculous things. I told her I was married and I wasn’t interested. She asked me to have a beer with her, for old times’ sake, she said. I remember thinking I could drink the beer fast and get out. And then she started crying, I think, and after that I don’t remember anything until I woke up a few hours later. She had to have drugged me and taken the pictures then.”